


Exposure Therapy

by Cryptix23



Series: Rare Birds [5]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Gen, Hugs all around, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy has PTSD, Sparrow Academy OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26366062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptix23/pseuds/Cryptix23
Summary: After the fight with this timeline's high-powered version of Diego, Five is definitely, not at all, not even a little bit absolutely terrified of Diego, and neither of them is happy about it.Self-indulgent bit of angst, fluff, and sibling bonding.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Diego Hargreeves
Series: Rare Birds [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898632
Comments: 28
Kudos: 356





	1. Five

**Author's Note:**

> Extremely self-indulgent follow-up to Sparrowhawks. I apologize for nothing.
> 
> Barotrauma was originally going to be a prologue to this one, you can read them in either order but that one gives a little context for Diego here.

Five was not scared of Diego.

That was not something that should need to be said. If he was feeling charitable, he could admit Diego's combat skills were intimidating enough for your average person, but Five was anything but average. Diego's strategic skills left something to be desired. His intellect was best left unexamined.

In short, he was in no way a threat to Five.

It would make no sense for Five to be scared of him.

So what if his hands shook being in the same room. So what if his heart rate picked up when Diego looked his way. So what if his chest pinched up and it got hard to breathe if he even thought about using his powers anywhere near Diego.

Lingering symptoms of his crash through spacetime, that was all, just like the ache in his bones and the itching like ants crawling over his skin. That didn't freak him out, either, didn't always make him paranoid that his own double was nearby, didn't make him wonder what unexpected potentials the other him might have delved out of these powers.

There _were_ no unexplored depths to his powers, and he was _not_ afraid of Diego, and he was _fine_.

 _Denial is the first stage_ , a voice in his head said, and it sounded like Delores and Luther and Klaus all at once, and he hated it.

"You've been avoiding me," a voice outside his head said, and it made his shoulders go rigid, and he hated that even more.

Diego leaned in the doorway of Five's room. Five didn't look up from his writing -- he'd conceded to using notebooks for idle calculations instead of walls, even though writing so small made his fingers cramp. He'd lost track of this equation awhile ago, he realized, the variables and constants slipping away from him, but the math kept him grounded. It had kept him grounded for decades. If he waited for his stupid gray matter to heal before he did any math he'd actually go crazy instead.

"What gave you that idea?" His voice was steady and sharp. He scribbled out the last three steps.

"The... fact that you've been avoiding me?" Diego said.

"Brilliant answer."

"You gonna tell me you're not?"

"If I do, will you leave me alone? Kinda busy here." He was just writing nonsense at this point, but Diego didn't know that.

"Not until I get an answer."

"Well, Diego, try knocking a couple braincells together and you might realize why someone wouldn't want to spend time with you after you nearly killed a third of the current Hargreeves." Good, yes, deflect his concern towards the others, this certainly was not personal.

Diego was quiet for a second. Five wanted to be happy about that, but he wasn't. He was trying to get Diego mad, because Diego mad was familiar territory, they'd snipe a few insults and one of them would storm off and it wouldn't look like 'avoidance'. Diego quiet was not Diego mad.

"You haven't been avoiding Vanya." His voice was too soft. Dammit, Diego was not supposed to be soft, he was all rough edges and shallow impulses and hair-trigger temper. Five didn't know how to deal with Diego soft.

Ugh, this was a guilt thing, wasn't it? Five was not here to assuage anyone's guilt, especially someone who hadn't actually _done_ anything to be guilty over.

"I like her better than you."

"Or Klaus."

Five didn't answer. He stubbornly kept writing. He was nothing if not stubborn, and if Diego wanted a battle of wills, that was one weapon Five still had no qualms wielding.

Diego tried a different tactic. "How do you feel?"

Five finally looked up. The subconjunctival hemorrhages still left bloody red starbursts in his sclera, contrasting nicely with his usual sarcastic smile. "Peachy. You?" His fingers tightened on the marker to try and hide their trembling.

He was NOT scared of Diego.

Diego stared steadily back at him with an expression Five couldn't read, and dammit, that wasn't helping. "Joint pain?"

Five's smile tightened. "Reminds me of my old body."

"How's the breathing?"

"I think I remember how."

"Still itches, doesn't it?"

"Is there a point to this line of questioning, Diego, or are you just listing symptoms?"

Diego finally looked away, casting his dark eyes toward the floor. "Look, Five, I just-- you were fighting the other me. You disappeared. You reappeared with... with major internal injuries. And you've been avoiding me ever since. I might not be the family math whiz, but I can put two and two together. Or, Two and Five, anyway."

Five did not dignify that half-hearted joke with a laugh. The breath of air through his nose was _not_ a laugh. A derisive snort for Diego's line of 'logic', maybe. He returned to scribbling nonsense variables, his lines shaking.

"How did he hurt you?"

Five's hands itched to pull open a rift and phase away. His heart thudded in his ears, his mouth going dry. His free hand pressed to his chest and he hoped Diego was too busy studying the floorboards to notice.

"His face hurt my fist," Five snapped. "Would you like a demonstration?"

Diego was quiet again, and Five had the hope that he'd maybe, for once, take a fucking hint and leave. Five was _fine_.

Finally, Diego sighed and turned away, to Five's palpable relief.

"You know, Five," he said, suddenly. "I don't get you. You've gone through literal hell to keep us all safe, but you still won't trust us."

Now he was trying to turn the guilt back on Five. It wasn't going to work.

Diego started walking again.

Shit, okay, fine, yes it was.

"There's another Five here," Five said. He wasn't about to say anything about Diego's powers, or his own, if he could help it, but he could at least let his brother in on a secondary concern. Maybe it would distract him from his inappropriate guilt.

Diego stopped. His hand went to his shoulder sheath.

Five rolled his eyes. "Not _here_ , idiot. This timeline."

"Right." Diego put his hands in his pockets as he turned back. His hands being out of sight made Five feel a little better, at least. He wasn't using them if they were out of sight. "We went over this while you were out. If some of us exist, probably all of us do."

Five shrugged. It gave him an excuse to look away. "I know he's directly involved with the Raptors."

"How do you know that?"

"Because the other you fought like he's fought a jumper before."

Diego turned that over. "So... they're enemies?"

"Or, more likely, they trained together. You guys would--" His voice broke. He forced himself to clear his throat and finish the sentence. "You guys would fight the same way if I hadn't disappeared." Diego would fight the same way.

He needed to stop drawing parallels or he was never going to get over this.

Diego took the information much more seriously than he expected. "Have you told the others?"

"What, a half-formed theory? No."

"If you don't, I will."

"That's hardly necessary."

Diego was already heading downstairs. Five cursed and tossed his notebook aside. His joints did not appreciate the sudden movement, but they could suck it up. Physical pain was nothing compared to dealing with a goddamn 'family meeting'.

"Dammit, Diego, this is why I don't tell you things!"

"No, you don't tell anybody anything, you just leave us stumbling around in the dark while you try to handle everything yourself, until you finally collapse and screw us over."

Okay, now _that_ was a low blow. He'd only done that during the first apocalypse, and he'd learned his lesson. It was the rest of them being the pain in the ass the second time around.

Five managed to catch up to Diego in the hallway, sweeping around to stand between him and the living-room doorway. "I am _fine_ , I am _not_ about to collapse, and _you_ are the one making a big production out of nothing right now." He could feel eyes on him from the living room and knew they'd already attracted sibling attention.

"Then why are you still hiding shit?"

Five tried to ignore the cold sweat that broke out as he stared Diego down. "Hiding _what_?"

"How about how the hell you got barotrauma in a landlocked fight? Or why you didn't teleport just now? If you're so 'fine' then why are you afraid of me?"

There it was. Diego swallowed hard, looked like he'd like to take the words back, but it was too late for that.

"Afraid? Of _you_?" Five took a step forward, his voice shaking, and he could pretend it was in rage. "You listen to me you braindead neanderthal, if I was going to be afraid of _any_ of my siblings, it certainly would _not_ be the meathead adrenaline junkie wanna-be Batm--"

Diego's hand moved in his periphery.

Suddenly Five was in the living room, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get the hell away, and oh god, had he jumped, he wasn't even sure, he had to have, the other Diego was smiling with his hand upraised and Five had fallen right into his trap and he was about to be unmade again, the world lurched under him as it prepared to unravel--

Five promptly was sick on the nearest patch of floor.

Of course everyone else was in the living room, and he became quickly aware of their overlapping voices, of the gentle touch on his back. Vanya's worried face bobbed in his vision among a haze of black spots.

"What did you _do_?" he heard Luther demand.

Diego slowly lowered his hand, doing a remarkable impression of a kicked puppy. "I don't know."

Allison appeared with a cool wet cloth. Five snatched it and swiped the sweat off his forehead.

"I'm _not_ scared of you," Five insisted.

"Five," Diego said gently, "you just had a panic attack and threw up because I moved too fast." There was no implied 'I told you so' to his voice, and that just made Five angrier.

"I am not. Scared. Of _you_. It wouldn't make _sense_ to be scared of you. You didn't _do_ anything. It was the _other_ you that redirected my jump!"

Things went quiet. Five felt the fleeting urge to rewind, take the admission back, and just the idea made him almost vomit again.

Okay. So maybe he wasn't fine.

Five's shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him. "He changed my trajectory," he admitted in a croaky near-whisper that was still too loud in the too-quiet room. "Screwed the whole thing up. I wound up... nowhere. And it _hurt_. Like you cannot imagine. And you know, that's not even the worst part?" He laughed joylessly. "The worst part is that I was going to time-jump, just, just a _second_ before, to help Lucia, and I-- all I can think is what would have happened if I had. If I'd gotten stuck again, alone, and sick, and powerless. I can't do that again."

No one spoke. Vanya's hand rubbed his back.

The silence grated on his raw nerves. "Is that enough of an answer, _Diego_?" Five growled.

No reply. Five looked up.

Diego was gone.

He hated how relieved that made him feel.


	2. Diego

Walking out with only the clothes on his back seemed like a good idea at the time. If he'd stopped to grab anything else, even car keys, someone might have stopped him.

Worse, they might not have.

But it did mean that all he had was some loose change and a whole lot of knives, and technically he could get a room with the latter, but he'd rather not spend the night in jail. He didn't have the heart yet to face Eudora if she was around.

So he went to the only place he could think of.

He walked into the Fighting Lion.

That it still existed, unchanged despite the mess they'd made of the timeline, was reassuring. Al's boxing gym didn't give a shit about Dallas, or the Umbrella Academy, or the Sparrow Academy, or any kind of superhuman BS. It was utterly detached from the world he'd grown up in. That was a part of its charm.

Waning sunlight streamed dusty and grey through the glass block windows. Stale sweat and body odor assaulted his nose. Fists and feet smacked punching bags with dull thuds and creaking chains. Voices grunted, counted, shouted insults and instructions and encouragement. Music played over a shitty stereo.

It felt like home.

He even still recognized many of the faces. None of them recognized him back, of course. He didn't exist here.

"Hey, Fabio, you need something?"

Diego smiled at the little man behind the betting cage. Never thought he'd be so glad to hear Al's reedy voice again. "I need a place to stay."

Al looked at him funny. Diego didn't blame him. As far as Al knew, he was just some stranger off the street. "What's this look like, the Hilton?"

"I can handle a mop and I've got a mean right hook."

Al sized him up. The hair might not impress him, but three months in an institution hadn't softened Diego any. And he was direct. Al liked direct.

"I _could_ use a cleaner," Al said. "What's your name?"

"Diego."

"Tell you what, Diego. Hey, Sam!" A guy with arms as big as Diego's thighs turned away from a punching bag. "Sam's my best amateur. You last two minutes in the ring with him, you got a job and a cot in the back room."

"Deal."

Diego took off his jacket and shoulder sheath.

Diego knew Sam Rosatti. Sam hit like a truck, but he signaled like one, too, if you knew where to look. Two minutes later, Sam was on the mat, and Diego was following Al to the back, keys in hand.

The rough brick boiler room was full of junk -- none of his junk, which he expected, but it still pained him to see. He'd figure it out, though. One step at a time. Al was saying something about the cot, he didn't have any blankets but he had towels, the minifridge and the water in the sink probably still worked, only bathrooms were out in the gym proper. Almost the same spiel.

As Al started back up the stairs, Diego spoke up again. "Hey, Al? If anybody comes looking for me, I'm not here."

"Ah, shit, of course you're wanted. What is it, cops? The mob? That's not part of the deal, you're not making me an accomplice!"

Diego put up his hands. "No, no, that's not it. It's my family. _Family_ family, not mob family." Al didn't look convinced. Diego sucked his teeth as he tried to figure out how to phrase his next words so he didn't sound like a complete lunatic. He'd had enough of being treated like he was crazy. "My... uh, my little brother--" Five would _hate_ that. "He was in an accident, and he got hurt, really badly. He almost died. And it was my fault. And now he can't look at me without freaking out. So, I, uh... I can't go home for awhile."

He hoped that sounded authentic enough. It was as close to the truth as a normal person was going to believe, anyway. The guilt and pain in his voice was certainly genuine.

"Shit," Al said, at length. "That's rough."

"Yeah."

"Alright, anybody asks, we never heard of a Diego. I'll let the guys know."

"Thanks. Just, uh-- leave the family stuff out? I don't need everybody knowing my personal shit."

"Yeah, sure."

The door swung shut behind Al. Diego hung his jacket on the same pillar he'd once hung his harness up on after a long night's work, and laid down on the cot.

"Home, sweet home."

* * *

Two days passed without incident.

Diego figured one of two things. Either his gamble had worked -- "Too obvious, even for him," he could hear in Five's voice -- or they weren't looking.

Either was fine, he told himself. Maybe, without him around, Five was doing better.

In hindsight, he should've guessed. Of course Five's powers had a trajectory that could be altered. Of course knocking those careful calculations out of true would hurt him. He had no way of knowing Five could end up 'nowhere', but it followed that 'nowhere' had no air pressure, hence the severe decompression.

And of course Five would be terrified to repeat the experience. Diego hadn't willingly set foot in anything deeper than a bathtub since his own brush with barotrauma.

He'd be avoiding himself, too, if he could.

(Was this how it felt to be Vanya? He needed to apologise to her. A lot.)

Or he'd be looking for himself -- and not in the hippie new-agey Klaus-y sense -- but he didn't have anywhere to start, there. As much as he didn't want to give Reginald any credit, if a mysterious billionaire's sources couldn't turn anything up on the Raptors, then Diego didn't have much hope without any of his old contacts.

So, when he wasn't busy feeling like utter shit, Diego passed the time by rekindling friendships with some of the regulars that he used to know. It was weird, trying to pretend like he didn't know them, like he didn't have the years of camaraderie; weird, too, to remember that he had no reputation here to fall back on. The name Diego 'The Kraken' Hargreeves didn't mean dick here.

He slipped up more than once, but they weren't scared off easily. Making friends wherever he went was a skill he'd developed after leaving home. He was good at it. He was confident and protective and funny and kind of dorky, and people liked him.

Nigel threw him a couple shirts, because Al let it slip that he didn't have anything -- Al wasn't good at keeping his mouth shut. Shahid ordered in delivery and 'accidentally' ordered too much and hey, take some of this before it gets cold, asshole. Kyra happened to need some help cleaning out her garage and would pay forty and beer for it.

Diego made the expected grumpy protests, but he didn't hide that he appreciated it.

The third day, he returned from picking up a couple essentials, shopping bag slung over his shoulder. A bird cawed atop a nearby awning. Diego stopped, let the door swing shut in front of him.

"Faith?"

The crow fluffed its glossy black feathers and cawed again, ignoring him. Diego walked over, staring up at the bird that might or might not be a part of his... half-sister? Half-sister, that sounded right. As far as anything in this family sounded right.

"Faith, if that is you, don't tell them where I am. I don't know what they told you, but I left for a reason."

Someone behind him laughed. Diego awkwardly smiled and waved. By the time he looked back, the bird had flown off.

"So much for not looking crazy," Diego muttered. He headed inside.

* * *

He was wailing on a punching bag when he heard the murmurs start, a wave that rippled back from the front door. All he needed to hear was the word 'giant'. He snatched up a towel and beat a hasty retreat. Some instinct told him not to go far -- Luther fought dirty these days. If he decided he needed to wade through some bruisers, he would. Diego stayed by the lockers, out of sight, and listened in.

"I'm looking for Diego Hargreeves." Luther's deep voice rumbled through the walls.

"Who?"

"Never heard of him."

"No? Yea tall, shaggy black hair, kinda ugly, knife fetish?"

What the _fuck_ , Luther.

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"Where do you think you're going, big man?"

Peeking around the corner, Diego could just see Luther's bulky figure. Sam blocked his path, a dumbbell hefted on his shoulder as a casual threat. Not that it bothered Luther. Sam was big. Luther was bigger. Luther could fastball bowling balls and no-sell a rocket launcher. A fifty-pound weight wasn't going to intimidate him.

"It's funny you haven't seen him," Luther said. "A little birdy told me he's been staying here."

Diego cursed under his breath. Dammit, Faith.

"Well _I'm_ telling you, we haven't seen the gentleman."

"What do you want him for, anyway? You a cop?"

"I'm his brother."

Someone laughed. "Yeah? And I'm Betty White."

"Loved you in Golden Girls," rang a new voice, high and sarcastic and cracking from puberty. "Listen, this is sweet and all, but how about we cut the bullshit before somebody gets _hurt_ , eh, _Diego_?"

Diego groaned, letting his head fall back against a locker. Luther made sense, Luther was earnest but dumb as a very large box of rocks when it came to people, he might not understand why Diego left. But Five? Five was smart, so what the hell was he doing here? Proving a point?

 _I am not. Scared. Of_ _YOU_.

Yeah, proving a point. At his own and Diego's expense. Idiot.

Diego stepped out of hiding, hands up, towel in hand as a makeshift white flag. "Alright. You got me."

"You know these guys, Diego?" Sam asked in surprise.

Diego looked over the two of them. Luther stared back, trying to look stern, mostly looking relieved. Five fidgeted, gaze fixed on Diego's hands. His eye damage had faded to a still-unsettling orange. "Yeah. Meet my brothers." He threw the towel over his shoulder and jerked his chin for them to follow him.

He didn't head for the back room. Instead, he lead them to a relatively quiet corner behind the ring. He leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his chest so he wouldn't startle Five with any sudden moves.

"What do you want?"

"What do we--" Five spluttered.

"Are you serious?" Luther said. "You disappear for two days, you don't even call--"

"How about making sure our fool brother didn't go off and get himself killed fighting his doppelganger?"

Diego shrugged. "Well, I'm not dead."

"More's the pity," Five seethed. He shot an orange-tinted glare around the room. Several people quickly made themselves look busy. "Is there somewhere more private we can talk?"

" 'Fraid not," Diego lied. If they had to do this with an audience then they might leave faster.

Luther frowned. "Really, man, you're gonna make us do this in public?"

"I ain't making you do shit."

Five looked about ready to bite someone. "You know," he said, voice trembling with suppressed rage, "This temper tantrum of yours was real cute at first, but--"

"Temper tantrum?" Diego interrupted. "Is that what you think this is?"

"Whatever you want to call it! You've made your point. You can come home now. Alright?"

Diego sighed. Trust Five to be an obstinate dumbass at the worst time. "What... 'point', exactly, do you think I'm trying to make?"

Five marched up into Diego's space, glowering up at him. "I don't know, Diego. I have a hard time lowering myself to the level of your thought processes. Why don't you enlighten me?"

Diego very slowly moved his hand out of the crook of his elbow. Five's eyes darted to it. At this range, Diego could see the sheen of cold sweat, the way his white-knuckled fists shook. Diego wiggled his fingers and watched Five's face twitch.

"You shouldn't need to force yourself to be around me," he said.

"I never like being around you. Why should now be any different?" Five said through gritted teeth.

Diego waited, hand up, staring Five down while Five trembled and twitched. A few moments more and Five broke. He turned away sharply and leaned on a pillar, clutching his chest and panting like he'd just run a marathon.

"That's not fair," Luther said.

Diego sighed, letting his hands fall to his waist. "Life isn't fair. We gotta work with what we've got, and what we've got is a brother who can't stand the sight of me." He started to walk away. "I'm big enough to admit that you need Five a lot more than you need me."

"Diego!" Five called.

Diego stopped. He didn't turn around.

"I _wanted_ to do this in private," he heard Five mutter, "but you've forced my hand."

"What's that?"

"You're right. As much as I hate to admit it, you're right. It is... highly inconvenient if I can't be around you without getting so anxious I can't function." Five stood up straight, adjusting his coat. "With that in mind, I've decided on a course of treatment."

The familiar _whoosh_ of Five's blink caught Diego off-guard; even more so, Five suddenly standing in front of him.

"Exposure therapy."

Before Diego could ask him what the hell he was talking about -- before Five could second-guess himself out of this course of action -- Five's arms were wrapped around him.

Diego froze. For a long moment he didn't move, didn't even breath, unsure of how to even process the situation much less how to react to it. Five didn't _hug_. Even before he vanished, he'd never been one for physical affection. Now he barely tolerated human contact outside of fights and the occasional touch from Vanya.

Yet, here he was, with his head against Diego's chest and his skinny little arms around Diego's ribs. Voluntarily, even.

Diego slowly lowered his arms around Five's shoulders. Five trembled a little to the touch, his hold tightening, but he didn't blink away or fly into a murderous rage. Diego held his brother close and pressed his nose to Five's hair. Five smelled like ozone, like lightning, an acrid scent that always clung to him after a jump, something to do with air molecules crashing together to vacate the spaces he suddenly occupied. Diego closed his eyes tight against the rush of affection threatening to bring him to tears.

Five was safe, he was alive, and Diego was going to do everything in his power to keep him that way.

Luther turned his back and put himself between them and the rest of the gym, casting a glare that dared anyone to comment.

When Five finally pulled away, Diego let him go reluctantly. Awkwardness immediately set in. Diego half-turned away, discretely wiping his eyes before hooking his thumbs in his pockets. "Did that... help?"

"Not at all," Five said briskly, smoothing his clothes and making a face where he found Diego's sweat soaked into the fabric. "...Maybe a little," he amended. "It's a start."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I warned you this was self-indulgent fluff, and I wanted hugs.


End file.
